Travelling to a foreign land,
engaging in a cause not rightfully yours to join,
illegally taking up arms
with a desperate desire to save baby orphans
(only to dig them into the ground anyway);
is a life-altering experience.
There is an old line which goes something like:
"A part of my soul died on that cold, November morn."
But, such an experience can have the opposite effect entirely.
Yes! An experience such as this
can re-kindle a passion within,
so that every single particle,
every minute of each passing hour,
feels like a sacred gift -
the most sacred gift imaginable.
Yet upon returning home from such an experience,
after being grilled by Internal Affairs,
threatened with charges of International Treason,
Subterfuge and Espionage(but in the end,
you were only trying to save baby orphans
that you had to dig into the ground anyway,
so Internal Affairs drops the charges, telling you to scram),
you are inevitably slapped across the face
with an inescapable new reality....
....everyone appears to be whining and complaining
about the most trivial things,
as if everyone simultaneously feels wronged.
And this is wot you feel compelled to do:
you want to take these whiners,
transport them one-by-one
back to the foreign land with you.
After they see living skeletons
drag themselves across the dirt,
moaning, groaning, pleading for a drop of clean water,
a miniscule morsel of food,
you hand the whiner a gun,
point toward an ominous dust-cloud on the horizon,
and this is wot you say:
"See the dust-cloud moving closer towards us.
It is filled with psychopathic horsemen.
These psychopathic butchers are wielding bayonets, machetes and Kalashnikovs.
If you and I do not successfully kill these mad horsemen,
they are going to chop apart all of the baby orphans
congregated in the courtyard over there.
Do you see the beautiful baby orphans in the courtyard?
Yes, those are the orphans.
And if we do not successfully defend this camp,
yet somehow survive with our lives,
we are going to spend the rest of the night
digging the baby orphans into the ground.
So, it best be high time you wipe the tears from your face,
stop worrying about how so-and-so called you a loser or wotever,
how your retirement funds appear to be shrinking
and so you won't be able to play as many games
of hitting the little white ball across a course
fed with enough water to run an entire city.
Forget about your little boo-boo.
Pull-up your chin, straighten that spine,
and start squeezing the trigger like there's no tomorrow."
September 25th, 2011
Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2013
To the seedlings sprouting in the 8 corners of the world:
An open communique can lead towards
a perilous precipice overlooking jagged rocks
being pounded by the relentless waves
of a cold, apathetic ocean --
in such a circumstance,
it doesn't take much to slip,
to be pushed, to be sent over the edge,
shattering upon the rocks below,
sucked down by an undertow
erasing all evidence of your prior existence.
We have come to an impasse,
the windows of opportunity
in the jet-streams of change,
are passing by at astounding speeds.
A true Anarchist
is not a Terrorist;
leave such decrepit despondency
to ultra-fanatic zealots and the New Gestapo.
A true Anarchist
should not fight for lawlessness,
should not wish for chaotic, wanton destruction -
such myths are propagated by automatons
and the controllers themselves.
A true Anarchist
should not raise placards in protest,
should not spray-paint graffiti
upon the walls of gaudy Bauhaus replications,
nor lob Molotov cocktails
at an establishment so entrenched,
four heads grow back
to replace every head, decapitated.
A true Anarchist
dons a masque of mirages,
reflecting nationalism, consumerism and Swastikas
back into the eyes of the pushers.
A true Anarchist does so
by donning the uniforms of business districts,
of the worker,
of the paint-splattered, ink-stained artisan.
When a true Anarchist
gains the confidence and trust
of Drones left in charge
of oiling the cogs,
a true Anarchist enters the control-room
not to smash instruments,
turns dials, flicks switches, presses buttons,
re-writes programs and codes,
in order to help alter the directional course
of the very Beast itself.
Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2012
When job positions within monopolies prevent us from working together
towards a goal far greater than lining the pockets of a few,
when schools stop us from educating ourselves,
and are instead, assembly lines churning-out tin soldiers,
when governments prevent humanity from achieving self-determination,
when media keeps us informed about current events,
rather than us becoming involved in the events,
then only in resistance will we find each other;
will we find ourselves in the purest sense.
The masqued ones are erasing themselves
within a society in which everything is under surveillance,
measured, quantified and appraised,
where everything is determined by resumes,
credit history, internet profiles.
Background checks, gossip columns, intelligence agencies,
conspire to drag every last detail out into the open.
The masqued ones live in an in-between world
being squeezed by other worlds.
It is a world existing in the hope of understanding reality,
by changing reality.
If the powers that be, can reveal the hidden world,
dragging it out under the searing spotlight of scrutiny,
under the spotlight of current mass-ideology,
then one more possible world reality becomes extinct
under the boots of Fascists using the freedom of speech
to silence the freedoms of everyone else;
eventually, even including themselves.
The controllers want to show there are no unchartered paths
leading away from the programmable masses of mundanity.
Therefore, the masque is seductive to those not fully conditioned
to become blind sheep led by shepherds, towards the slaughter.
The masque suggests mystery, unknowns,
alternative endings to a story covered in mildew.
The masque symbolizes a threat to an entrenched establishment.
The masque becomes the chrysalis in which a pupa
can evolve into something different; into something new.
....in warrens deep below,
Babylon-kids write love songs,
and above ground, people preach rights and freedoms,
while enslaving the world in the chains of a democracy
that has never truly existed.
Democracy is a dream turned nightmare,
so the Babylon-kids are keeping the dream
of a choose-your-own-adventure, alive.
Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2012
Burning so bright
With new found life
Released from his ball and chain
Out of the dark
And into the light
Flying… on wings of freedom again.
As he writes his life
His soul ignites
In flames of wisdom and sight
His God given right
As his truth kills the evil ‘Black Knight’.
Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2006
Sitting alone again, wondering if you're okay.
being alone, i remembered how i wanted you to stay.
looking for something I can hold on to.
It's the pillow that reminds me of you.
Every time the clock ticks,
I would always find a way to entertain myself &
hoping i can do some magic tricks.
before i close my eyes & go to sleep,
every night , i hope, i can be w/ you for just a glimpse.
every time it rains, i would always go outside,
but i guess no one would like to hold my hand & be by my side
I touched my face & i was already crying under the rain.
will there be someone willing to cast away all this pain?
until now, no one would risk,to wipe off these tears.
The shadow of my past, well those are my fears.
i always want to hide myself from this world's madness.
I often feel that I'm inside a bubble or in a dark sanctuary,
where there is sadness.
I hope there will be a wishing star that will pass by.
I'll make another wish,to find the guy who cant make me cry.
i sat at the corner of my room, and in my hand, was a ring,
a question that even i cant answer,
"will i forever be waiting like an Angel w/ a broken Wing"?
Copyright © Marianne Nolido | Year Posted 2011
Unnecessary anguish that keeps you withdrawn heartache and heartbreak
continues to weight heavy for your sake you come undone and in an instant your
gone excuses are enough to justify when times get rough. So complicated and
jaded misunderstood swept away unexplained limbo in eternities irrevocable
flame, your not satisfied hollow reinsurance shows when you cry your personal
prison grows accustom to screams of loathing. My obsession to surround your
sorrow with calm and paint a prefect picture of stimulated reason to ease your
instability, breathe with me rest your frustration and regret break this darkness
and confess precious time will wait while your captivated in change I will carry
Copyright © Cole Beck | Year Posted 2007
You came into my life, why? I didn’t invite you, I never wanted you around, you
know this , but you will not leave, you don’t know how much I hate you, and yet I
don’t hate anyone or anything. When you hate, to me, it is the same as killing. If I
only knew how to kill you ……. It would have been done many times over. I awake
every morning and there you are, ready to make my life miserable, the one thing
you enjoy most in your life. Wherever I go, you follow bringing your misery into my
life. Why cant you just leave and leave me in peace? I fight with you every day, and
it hurts so much, so much it hurts to fight with anyone, even you. There is one
way and only one way to rid you of me. I think of this often, but then where would I
be? I would not be, because you are part of me, your name is bi-polar. Handed
down from my father and from his father, and from me to my son, but he refuses
to recognize you, so he fights you without help he could get. If he would only say I
know who you are. I hurt for him everyday, and then I pray.
Oh God please forgive me for what I have brought upon my son. Son, I love you,
and am so sorry for what you go through. Maybe someday we will talk again. Dad
Copyright © Kenneth Fordham | Year Posted 2008
Clouds hang low, muffling the maple-covered mountainside.
Fog rises from a saturated earth, weakly wetting a soft breeze.
Mist maintains the connection 'tween earth and eternity.
Within the gloom, where barren treetops scrap the sky, twigs green.
Hope springs with random bits of color to the opened mortal eye.
Soon, soon, a brighter pallet will appear, light will live.
A gray day lies upon the wane and weary eye of morn.
Soon, wind-born blossoms wipe the cinders from the pale eye of sol,
melting the chill of fog and mist, warming the home of man.
First Published by Mused: BellaOnLine Literary Review 2015
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2016
Day by day my body decays
And my soul waits
For the warmth of your embrace
The meaning I cannot trace
The time is now to receive your grace
I remember much
Yet memories past have no bearing
I can see much
The meaning almost clear
The dust settles and chaos vanquished
Peace and love echoed again and again through the halls of time
Bear no weight until the final moments
A single frame as I lay
Time will no longer wait and I can no longer stay
Harmony engulfs me
Symphonies escort me
And angels guide me
My loving Father waits for me
I can almost see Him
I certainly feel Him
The old world fades to grey
A brilliant glow not of this world fills me
A love not felt by mortals
It is the beginning of the end
My breath shallow
My thoughts clear
My soul readies
Do not weep
He is waiting for me
This is exactly where I am supposed to be
Copyright © Sean Taylor | Year Posted 2012
The love of life is a very beautiful and splendid thing. Regretfully, it’s something many
fail to ever recognize. One day, I stopped to contemplate the beauty of compassion and
forgiveness. This is where the true beauty of life is found. When we stop to recognize
that personal feelings are less important than the feelings we are able to create in
others, then we have started to embrace the true beauty of life. To our lives poetry is a
beautiful gift from God. It enables us to step out of our external surroundings and into a
beautiful place, which of course, is the place known as our soul. From its depths we start
to realize the true power that is found in words. Words have the ability to create
feelings in others. Words can open eyes to see the beauty that has not yet been seen.
Words can take us on journeys to places unknown. Open our minds to philosophical
views,which had previously never been contemplated. Thus, leading us into a world, which
has never been seen through our eyes.
We are poets, children of God, creators of feelings, and scholars of life. It is
only from the bottom of the well that we learn to truly embrace and understand the warmth
and brightness of the sun. It is only from the top of the mountain that we are able to
understand the darkness that lie in the back of the cave. Until our soul has been emptied
we never fully appreciate what it means for it to be full. Words are no less than the
knife we can use to slice open the cake of life. Thus, enabling us to share pieces of
ourselves. What truly matters in this life is the fact that we are able to share and give
a little piece of ourselves. True success can only be measured in our ability to share our
experiences in life. Thus, enabling
others to feel and experience the depths of our knowledge. This is our gift and we should
understand the depth of its responsibility. We should all vow to enhance our gift to the
best of our abilities. We all have so much to learn and such little time with which to
At the end of the play, as the stage dims and the curtains fall, I leave the
theater. Outside, alone at the corner I realize; sometimes I feel like a blind man
standing at a crossroad in the fog. Shuddering at the thought, I tighten my coat and walk
quietly down the dimly lit street of remorse.
I have no idea if this is correct but I did enjoy myself.
For Constance's contest. ps. I have reset these lines
many times but they keep moving when I save the
poem. I guess its a poem anyhow. If it happens
again I apologize.
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2010
I Saw A Light
Enlightenment Hope & Harmony advanced to help
reuniting our warm bodies disregarded the period
of our aloneness when far apart we were over
Harmony enables us love each other having
everything to gain allowing our hope not to fail
notice how deeply in touch our instincts are,
those endless years of being separated,
will succeed to enlighten our nights, not to
abandon each others arms.
Hope will never sense the feeling of being senseless,
we will generate great power to recuperate
time lost by exhaling our passions breathing while
watching an illusion of one big red heart appearing on top
of a humble humming wave,
Forever In Love.
Destiny suddenly turned its way when realizing
a greater force does exist, although she never yelled
or called for help when being in distress, now he is
here spending the night undisturbed to enjoy the
happenings that awaits in that panoramic refuge.
Their arising love will be demonstrated while flying
half naked towards the oceans crashing waves to
harmonize parts of their bodies, feel the depth of yearning
to excel in their coming life, desire to love and make
love on the shore while listening to the melody of the
waves splashing with tremendous power to wash away
anyone who will dare break them apart, belonging
to long for each other, a promise will keep them
The evening ended prepared to engrave those
three words on our chests,
Enlightenment Hope and Harmony
trusting our bodies never to be separated ever again.
Therese Bacha (Win No. 2)
For the contest of Russel Sivey. Harmony Hope , and Enlightenment
Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2013
The digital face displays a naughty grin. 5:23am.
Sliding into seat 23C, I double-check my ticket just to make sure:
Seat 23C on Flight 753241698, with a designated lift-off time of 6:08am.
Beside me, chuckles Robert Anton Wilson's spirit:
"See, this is exactly why we appointed you as a Cardinal(the bird?)
in The Church of The 23 Enigma. You are a perfect fit.
Son, this is a destiny you cannot change,
so why not just make the best of it.
The plane might crash, be refurbished or decommissioned,
but the flight itself doesn't ever stop. Ever.
Once you get on, get in, the flight stays on an infinite course.
Thank you for flying with: Synchronicity 23 Airways. Please, enjoy your flight."
Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2013
Me: Since Samhain I have been chatting with Satan on Skype..On this date he celebrates his fall from grace..
Satan: Thank you Ken..You look marvelous today..What is your routine? You haven't aged in years...Is it diet and gym, the ladies and your erotic poetry?
Me: You are way too kind..(blushing)
Satan: Really, I enjoy your sense of eroticism, you have a fondness for the ladies I see..You should read "Justine" by my friend the Marquis de Sade..In order to know virtue, we must first acquaint ourselves with vice...
Me: Are you saying it is only through pain one can arrive at pleasure?
Satan: I'm saying you are unhappy because you desire things that cannot be..That's what desire IS, the need for what we cannot have..It's called greed...
Me: I have nothing to fear here..
Satan: Well Ken, there's always the truth..Maybe peace is acquired by the currency of loss..You are in love with perception..I have many friends here in hell with me you may have heard of, Anton Lavey, Aleister Crowley, Adolf Hitler among others..You should meet them..
Me: No thank you, I prefer to "Fear and Tremble" like Kierkegaard..I was taught your greatest truth was convincing the world there was only only one of you..
Satan: You know God loves you..
Me: Is that why you take interest?
Satan: You seek a measure of comfort from Women..Don't you know that love is the laziest theory for the meaning of life?
Me: But was not Faust saved in the end by the love of a woman?
Satan: I will not elaborate on your misconceptions..
Me: I'm just an ordinary human being with flesh, blood and bones..Nothing hard to decipher.. I wish for women and have needs..
Satan: They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions..Charming saying really..I say it is paved with intriguing questions...
Me: It is late, I have to go Mr. Satan...What time is it?
Satan: How much time do you need?
Me: No thanks..lol I have to go....
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Copyright © Ken Carroll | Year Posted 2014
Friday had been the saddest day
That my young life had ever known
The loneliness that my heart felt
Just would not leave me alone
The clouds that filled the afternoon
With their darkness and their dread
Left remorseful feelings alive inside
Along with feelings that seemed so dead
On Saturday when I did awaken
My world was much worse it seemed
For the gloom and darkness it embraced
Left my mind aloof in sad daydreams
Of what my eyes had seen to transpire
On that dark, cold Friday afternoon
I only prayed and hope what was written
Would come to fruition so very soon
As the last twenty four hours ticked away
The hope in my heart did begin to rise
For it began to beat so steady again
Waiting for the prophesied moment to arrive
But many in the room praying around me
Saw their faith begin to slip and fade
Not believing that what was happening
Would be much more than just another day
My heart awaiting the time to come closer
Anticipating the joy it would soon receive
Felt the rhythms of the approaching moment
For deep within it never failed to believe
I heard the most beautiful enchanting melodies
Embracing me from deep within His tomb
And upon hearing the hearty voices of angels
I sensed He would be rising so very soon
And the last twenty four hours did finally end
Sweeping my sadness and loneliness away
Replacing it with pure joy, and happiness
For He rose from the grave on a perfect day.
Copyright © Wendell Brown | Year Posted 2013
Love has no reply-it just waits-
love has no reply - it just prays-
Love understands- as it hopes
that rage will be quelled-
That the core of your heart will
of the venial mind-are allowable
If you never intend to exhale-
then inhalation is inevitable.
Demons seek company -
Presenting illusions to keep misery
side tract' in sorrowful elegies
The cardinal mentation-will automatically
tick when you tock --
Tock when you tick-
You came here with no instructions--
Love requires no action
Does not have to reply
No matter the jargon
the meaning of "no"is the same.
Whether you wax or wane
with wagers parlayed
invest in the" WAIT" like the yellow light
"Spread your bet-green light- keep moving
Not always smart- to bet on a sure thing-
red light stop wait -think about
what you're thinking of doing-
win win situation
Prior truth is not necessary for
what is "yet to be believed"
should never be applied to A
The efficacious-ness of the syringe as a method in
seeking answers to concepts --is horribly ineffective.
Love has no reply--- No outside stimuli -
No dos or don't s ... from the I ...
Strictly and inside Job
Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2014
In a burst of color and animal choruses
Sovereign sun heralds in a golden morning –
The air was delicate with the perfume of cherry blossom
Blown in from the hem of pink rows that lined the
driveway on Grandpa’s farm
I looked across at hay stacked verdant hills that were
Tossed with yellow daffodils, purple crocus and white snowdrops
They danced to the baton of the breeze and the
Hidden orchestra of lilting bird song of that fragrant spring morn
Grandma sang to me her songs of childhood
As we walked arm in arm amongst beds of fragrant roses
and budding fruit trees that whispered promises of full baskets
that would soon be heavy laden with the Summer fruits, preserves,
Pies and jam of a bountiful harvest, a few months from now
Summer came rich with its harvest, merry hearts
and long hazy, lazy summer days and nights scented
with wisteria, frogs and cicada, chirping and croaking
their melodious summer anthem of ‘All is well with the world’
as we toasted to our full and wonderful life
Autumn brought in a more somber note and amber tones
though warm and restful, they soon told me - life is changing again
time quickly moves on - it prepared me for the winter and
the chill mirrored in the face of the full moon as it lit a silvery path
to my next season’s change
The cherry trees glowed white against the dark night sky like iridescent bones along
the snow covered driveway - they waved their bony fingers goodbye
as I crunched solemnly down the long white corridor with slow steps and a heavy heart that was beating to the mournful dirge of hoot owls and creaking limbs – I blinked back tears under that star kissed sky and full moon that lit my path
The moon reminded me- each season has its bounty that I can treasure -I held those memories close to my well seasoned but thankful heart.
Brenda V Northeast
Copyright © Brenda Victoria Northeast | Year Posted 2012
Copyright © Bhavna khemlani | Year Posted 2012
Storms above me, storms below,
Storms of violence, Storms of sadness,
Storms of anger
Storms of people laughing,
mocking my existence
Sorrow, and the joy of the few lights
of hope and friendship echoes
Through the storms
The storms surround me night and day
No land sight Poseidon’s rage is all I see
No mercy found, twix’t night and day
But for the brief repast
The gift night brings
To weather the storms
I travel unseen, unheard
Past those who give
the storm its powers
To the places in my dreams
Where night and day are side by side
And Wolves gather
below the moons
Midday and night, to sing
Their songs of peace
Of legends from long ago
Of loyalty to their pack
And the fight to survive.
To weather the storms
I look to the wolves
As a cub, to the mother
The strong live to be the hunters
Whilst the weak
become the prey
The storm takes all
Partial to none it hunts
One by one, boat by boat,
all fall to the storm
Human, Animal, Angel, Demon,
the storm resides in us all
waiting to take hold
to drag us to its depths
when hope is gone
until the Light is found
hope is gone
Copyright © Wolf Lief | Year Posted 2012
Life’s tortures seem a part of my biological design
absorbing pain, a phenotype
and solutions, seemingly advancing in a slow motion
ten hands all over, tearing my blouse
hundred long nails
shredding my skin down to the dermis
The waters have turned salty
and all edibles-decayed with maggots
I’m roasted by hunger and fried with thirst
pressed by two rocks
and the valley of escape filled with thorns and reptiles
I’ve been tied to the Earth for even animals to trample upon
escaping from a dangerous path
lands me on a slippery ground
sliding down, having a free fall with no help
The same life which once passes urine on me
has now provided a fresh stream for a deep bath
the same sky, once filled with pregnant dark clouds
shines the light of hope and freedom
I’ve been hit but not crushed, bruised but not bleeding
heated but not burnt and swallowed but not chewed
I’m out! I’ve overcomed and now I’m free!
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2014
These forgotten badlands are arid and parched. It’s felt the blistering, desert hot winds.
Turbulent gritty sand storms have crossed these lands. What was once lively, thriving is
now only a desolate, thirsty terrain. After being drought-ridden for so long, the ground is
hard, unyielding even to the smallest root. Even vultures have stopped flying overhead
for how can something die if everything is already dead?Day after desiccated day, the sun
beams down, relentless. Although the night is somewhat welcoming, it is still so thick and
humid that it doesn’t provide much comfort. But there’s a scent in the air….something
somewhat familiar but from ages ago. There’s a change in the atmosphere…and an eerie
silence that stretches for miles, like time has stood still. Splat! There…a scattered, dark
circle on the ground…disappearing almost instantly. Suddenly, the scorching sky breaks
open. Rain…cool, wet liquid…it does exist. Looking across the horizon, you can see it. Like
a silky veil draping over the lands in a steady, fluid motion. There is no other sound
around…just the sound of this drumming rain landing, making everything it touches glisten
and gleam like diamonds. Giving drink to a once thought unquenchable territory, it opens
up wide and soaks it all in. The water running, dripping into the trenches that were only
once small cracks…..reaching depths unknown to bring forth life of what was once dead. If
there were such a smell as years of dehydration and depravity finally receiving
sustenance, this smell would be it. Such a beauty to behold…so much water that it stands
in pools until this hardened ground can learn what it’s like to soften in order to accept it.
It’s everywhere, can you see it? Abundant, unwavering water. Everything has been so
barren, you can see for miles…but…wait..what’s this? Something so small that you would
almost miss it. Emerald green, a majestic inch…a sprout….a sprout of hope….a sprout of
Copyright © A Rambling Righting Riley - Shauna Riley | Year Posted 2011
written 17th Sept 2013
When it comes to love, I AM poisonous
don't let me curse another, leave me loveless
For the first time in my life, I felt your pain and cried for your heart
my heart finally hurts, knowing I passed this pain from the start
Please find help to set your heart free
trust me, it's not a life you recover from easily
Damaged goods I told you, unrepairable
but some how, you managed the impossible
Unlovable for my entire life
yet you had no problem, getting me to become your wife
Yes, it's been more than both of us should have ever had to bear
at this moment, every cell in my body is overwhelmed, so I really do care
Please don't enter my life's pain and despair
you don't deserve it, you are so patient and filled with such love
I'm sorry I let myself fall in love knowing it would poison you
soul mates forever and eternity, my love belongs only to you...
Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
STORMS DON’T ALWAYS LAST
Shipwrecked, my ship destined for destruction
As I sailed across the ocean, storm waves beat against me
Destined for destruction, destined for disaster
Moments of despair, silenced with fear, I tremble
My heart raced with beat of uncertainty
Never would I imagine that this day would come
Waters surrounds , and engulfed me
My ship continued on a course I have never experienced before
This time for sure I thought I would die
While I sat there praying that the storm would soon be over
Tears streams down my eyes as I battled to reach the seashore
I was lost and afraid ,sure to sink, lost my anchor
Then in wink of a moment everything felt quiet
I rush hastily to the deck just to make sure ,it was then i realized
Suddenly the rain stopped, the thunder stop rolling
The wind was calmed, the sea was silent
As I gazed across I could see land for sure
It was then I recognized that even though I go through the storms of life
Storms clouds always pass.
Copyright © NANCY KNIGHT | Year Posted 2012
I grabbed my fishing pole and all the fishing lures I thought I would need. Now, I’m on my way to fish for my daily meal.
When I got to the waterfront, there were no fish for me to catch. I was disappointed, so I decided to sit down and think.
While sitting there thinking, a man came over to me. He ask, why are you just sitting here with your fishing pole and lures?
I told the man coming here was a big mistake, so, I’m sitting here because there are no fish for me to catch.
The man said follow me, I’ll take you to a place where you can fish, you won’t need your fishing pole or your lures and you won’t have any regrets.
I didn’t understand what he was saying, but I followed him anyway to see what was his plan.
He took me to a place where a crowd of people had gathered. I said to him, there is no water so how can I fish, what can I hope to catch.
I said to myself, I’ll never catch any fish because too may people are here, so now my hope had been totally shattered.
He said listen to what I say, then you will understand why I brought you to this place.
He stood in front of the crowd and he started to speak. His voice was soft and gentle, like sweet honey to a bee.
He spoke of love, kindness, forgiveness and many other wonderful thing. I forgot about wanting to catch fish for me to eat.
He keep talking and I started to understand. He wanted me to fish for lost souls, so I can teach them about God’s holy plan.
I’m no longer a fisherman for creatures of the sea. I am a fisherman for the Lord, that was His ultimate plan for me.
Copyright © ROSALYN LAMPKIN | Year Posted 2011
And the westerly wind,
Will blow a sea of waving grass
And the sea's fine mist
Will breathe drops like dew
And the sinking suns
Will cloak the sky's horizon
And the moons of Autumn
Will beckon the golden fertililty of the harvest
And the violet tinged edge of night
Will cry for the white bursting of the stars
And the carved thrust of the mountain range
Will challenge the forever yielding blue
And the hovering tunes of the dawn's awakening
Will mimic the lullaby of my dreams
Copyright © Jennifer Cahill | Year Posted 2011
Close your eyes for awhile my friend, I heard there lies a moon far behind the black sky, I heard lovers were dancing beneath, can you hear them singing? I can feel their tipsy steps making rhymes on floor, and smell of perfumes filling the air, I heard a sun rises to brighten up their world, and birds do sing them charming melodies at morning, they say they have roses in colors and beautiful trees in the streets, and have they told you about the sea yet? They say it smells so wonderful and the delicate air of seas caresses their cheeks with soft wet breezes, oh my friend, what have we seen in the dark but the fragile ghosts that we are!
“Hush” whispered to me, “I lighted up a moon inside my heart and I smell lilies and jasmine in my nose, my dreams play tunes my heart dance on, they speak to me all night and there I see a starry night floats above, I feel the warmth of a sun in my soul as it hugs tight, whispering to me hymns of love and joy, lightening candles for hopes which had accompanied me amongst the dark, why have you closed your eyes my friend? Look through the colorful roses I painted for you with eyes wide open, let the lights off so you would see clearer, let the lights off so you can brighten up the world that hides with you, for my friend, what have we seen in the dark but the free spirits that we have become!
* If you enjoyed this piece, follow the link and share your thoughts
Copyright © Samar Saleh | Year Posted 2013
Your time has come like the rising sun. Stand up for life created by God’s love as
the dove descends from above. He has a plan for you to be one with Him as He
is with you thus making you brand new. Your life should be more than just the
ordinary existence, let Him strengthen you as your soul runs the distance. Be
filled with His spirit and let your light shine. Manifest His joyful glory and
overcome obstacles in His name while unto Him you render an acclaim. Move
ahead and be the lighthouse of strength without relenting; thus ascending from
the bottomless pit into His eternal light of creation. Experience the fullness of
your destiny with God in the middle of your future. Build your foundation in His
word and spirit. Empower your soul with His tenacity; He will determine your
capacity. Be anointed by His grace and experience the reality of not just a
dream. A light lit for living liturgy. He has you covered with His Holy Spirit. Now
step out—your time has come!
Comments: A prose poem is written in prose form. It does not have line breaks
or varying topography as a regular poem. During the mid-nineteenth century,
Charles Baudelaire published Petis poemes en prose. Oscar Wilde, T.S Eliot
and others have written in this genre. The genre started in France and is now
worldwide. The use of concrete language and figurative speech such as
imagery, rhymes, personification, contrast, simile, metaphor, alliteration,
metonymy, synecdoche, abstraction and the like should be incorporated based
on the desire of the poet. The piece may focus on language, a story, or
something similar based on the choice of the poet.
Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr | Year Posted 2007
We the old and broken, have become the pawns
in the grand game of politics. We are as in the game
of chess of the lowest esteem, expendable
if not worse unwanted, a barganing chip.
For three years we haven't even received
a cost of living increasee
while their income they have
They have as they so often do broken
their promise to us. Social security was a
promise made by them, that we paid
for when we were able to work,
extracted from every pay check we earned.
Those revenues where to be put in a trust
for us to draw from when the time came
that we had need of them. However our
government for decades have used those
funds as they pleased, for things other than
what they were intended for. Why am I not surprised?
because our so called public servants have
broken countless promises and in the process
lined their pockets from the spoils of their deceptions.
The Bill of Rights and the Constitution
they have shredded and the first casulity
was the truth, now we are the second.
Most of our fatrhers fought and many died to
defend the rights that they have cast into the
the trash heap. Our national debt is now beyond
any hope of us ever repaying, robbing the young of
any hope of a future or even a job, taxes they will have
to pay tremendous to pay for there folly. China Told
President Obama, We're not going to lend you any more,
sure can't say I blame them, probably never pay back what
we already borrowed form them. England is burning because
of the same folly of the politicians, won't be surprised
if the same thing takes place here. People with no hope
and no future what do they expect. They'll go on filling their
pockets with the taxes we all pay, the don't care it's all
well and fine for them. Will give themselves another big
pay increse next year, you just wait and see. Like mother
Hubbard everyone elses cubbard is bare, no bone for
the doggies anymore. They have destroyed everything
Along with, "One nation under God". This once upon a time
good nation has quite literally gone to the "Dogs". The only
Thing that I can say is that I wouldn't have said before,
I'm ashamed of what this nation has became.
Copyright © Jack Ross jr. | Year Posted 2011
A single daisy grew along the fence
Standing tall and happy
Among the weeds and scattered yard waste
In the strong sun not yet of summer
And I offered a silent salute
As I sauntered by
Because I daresay
I envied its resolve
Copyright © Brandi Elizabeth Brown | Year Posted 2014
This is the last call for the
dream which is about to
leave from cloud number
nine. Calling at freedom,
peace, tranquillity, hope
and love for all.
Your ticket shall be faith,
humility and respect for
all, your passport the
ability to care and share
for one another, to give,
to teach, to learn.
The price of the ticket,
your heart, your soul,
the willingness to bind
and blend, to join hands
on a journey beyond the
boundaries of reality.
Don't miss this dream,
there is room for all,
there is no first or second
class, no colour or religious
divide, only carriages full
of futures desires.
Don't miss this dream
leaving from cloud nine,
on it the future depends,
both yours and mine.
Copyright © Daniel Cheeseman | Year Posted 2010
ON THE BREAK OF A NEW DAWN
In the still of night we contemplate the dawn of a day
when we shall be free of the mind games shadowing
liberation sustained by generations whose lives were
put on hold: lives often ending in holes.
The chiming moments of the shades of night strike nerves
playing blues/jazz/gospels awakening dormant minds
to the un-televised revolution whose seeds were sown
in the youth of fertile convoluted brain matter.
Each stilled night, in its season, generates new revelations
revealing the I am because they are the steady black bridges
spanning over the paths that with blood had been watered…
Steady black bridges over which we have crossed over on.
Yet, despite the toils and tribulations of these ancestor
travelers, we’ve forgotten the blood debt to be paid.
Now is the time to let Jordan Roll like the rolling thunder
that follows the flashing lightening! Now is the time
to grasp the baton the torch bearers have passed on to us;
and pursue the dream’s vision to the reality that must be.
The fathers and mothers who have gone before us, must
not wallow in sunken graves of disappointment.
Indeed the ball is now in our court and now is the time.
Let us lay up new legacies for those in the darkness of wombs;
let us lay up new legacies that they may follow the light
of a new day…dawning with the power of the Lion of Judah!
Now is the time; yesterday is gone and tomorrow is too late.
Now is the time: People get ready…there’s a train a’coming…
Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015